Expected
by Ezra Marcel
Summary: Having sex with Mike Chilton is a lot like driving in a car with him.


First bit of fanfiction in a while, and I'm a little rusty on this site's uploader, so if the format is terrible, I'll do my best to fix it later.

This is also my first PWP/work of smut in general, so, if you have any advice, I'd be more than happy to hear it!

THIS IS A LINE BREAK

Chuck knows how the night's going to go the moment he slips into the passenger's seat.

He knows they'll go out driving with Mike talking the whole way about how he just needs to perfect this one jump or this one turn or his one brake pattern. And Chuck knows he'll yell at him to slow down and warn him of impending dangers and slightly less impending dangers and when Mike finally stops, Chuck will whine and whine about how everytime they go driving Chuck gets _that much closer_ to a premature death and finally Mike will tug him forward and kiss him. And he'll kiss him hard. And they might have sex. They'll probably have sex. Yeah, no, they'll definitely have sex. Right there in the car.

But just because Chuck knows that's exactly how it's going to go doesn't make it any less exciting when it does.

Mike cuts him off mid-complaint to pull him forward by his shirt. He presses their lips together so hard it hurts for the short moment before Chuck's brain catches up with the rest of him and one hand fumbles around to undo his octopus of a seatbelt. When he's free he pulls himself up and into a more comfortable spot on Mike's lap, knees bent and planted on either side of his partner's legs. It's awkward and his back hurts a little, but it's worth it for the rush he feels when Mike's tongue slides into his mouth, hot and not at all unwelcome.

Chuck slides his right hand into Mike's hair because he has no idea what to do with it, and the other hand flutters around uselessly for a moment before Mike grabs his wrist and pulls his hand southward, to… _oh_.

Chuck's breath hitches and Mike laughs. The bastard _laughs_. It's confident and airy like it always is, but with something heavier behind it. That need, the reason he kissed Chuck in the first place, the reason they go driving late at night together every few weeks, just to do this.

Somewhere along the way shirts ride up and hands move desperately. Jeans are unzipped and pulled down as low as necessary. Positions are shifted and mouths and tongues move. Mutt might be bigger than the average car, but it's still just an automobile, and Chuck knows he'll have bruises on his back from all the things he's been pressed up against within the small space.

He gets hit just right and he moans, and the noise is so loud and uncensored that he surprises himself. He pushes his bangs out of his eyes and squints in the darkness of the car. He can make out the edges of Mike's form, he can feel his hot breath on his neck and chest. Chuck's arms are around his neck and both of them are breathing so hard, so loudly. He notices that the windows are completely fogged over.

"Mikey, slow down," Chuck hisses at a particularly strong thrust, arching his back and biting down as hard as he can on his bottom lip to stop himself from yelling. "I don't want to finish yet."

"That seems to be a thing with you," Mike pants, his breath falling against Chuck's ear. "C'mon, man. You know I don't do '_slow_'."

Having sex with Mike Chilton is a lot like driving in a car with him. He will always go much too fast, and whoever is with him will likely end up screaming.

Chuck can feel a scream building up in him as his lower body turns completely limp. He leans up just enough to press his mouth against Mike's collarbone, which provides a barrier for the desperate yell that ends up being muted down into a pathetic little groan as he comes onto Mike's stomach. Mike's climax follows shortly after, and he makes no attempt to stop the moan he emits, the sound that causes Chuck to tighten his grip on his partner's hair, as if holding onto him for dear life.

The car is silent with the exception of deep breaths every few seconds, the two of them pulling at the air like they've spent the last hour under water. Once the need for air dies down, Mike murmurs, "Well, that was fun."

Chuck gives him a weak punch on the arm. "Don't _do_ that," he says.

"Do what?"

"Almost kill me with your driving, and then make some attempt to make it up to me with-"

"Oh, man, Chuckles, please don't start bitching at me yet. I'm really not ready for round two right now."

Chuck squints at his partner in the half light before snapping indignantly, "I wasn't bitching."

Mike grins and gives him a kiss.


End file.
